Tale of the Sharpshooter
by diesel weasel
Summary: a series of unfortunate events has left minuteman Caleb Garret with an itchy trigger finger and thirsty for Templar blood.


Caleb Garett slowly walked down the road in the frontier. He was tired and hungry and his feet had blisters. In the spring of 1775 patriot recruiters came to the town near his families farm, he was eighteen at the time and when he heard they were fighting for freedom he readily joined the volunteer militia, he was the best shot in the area with his father's rifle, he would have taken it with him to war but for his family it was the only way for them to harvest the local deer and elk.

When he left home in the spring of 1775 he dreamed of being in epic battles and returning home the conqueror of the mightiest army in the world. Now he chuckled at the childish notion. He had not known what war was truly about, the gore and bloodshed and charging into the enemy encampments and bayoneting men who were still tending there campfires. He remembered the last battle he participated that made hi get into his current situation.

_Flash back:_

_It was supposed to be a simple mission, he and his squadron were waiting in the brush by the roadside waiting for the convoy to come down the road. The plan was simple. Convoy shows up unaware, unaware the patriots catch them in the crossfire from both sides of the road, and then they hijack the wagon and take it back to George Washington to supply the patriot army. Simple right? _

_The convoy came around and leading the way was a captain, a scout, a snitch and a grenadier. Making up the rear of the convoy were four redcoat regulars, about the same size as their force. Captain Gabriel raised his hand to signal the men to make themselves ready because he was the scout for his squad his job was to fire at the redcoat scout then kill their snitch. That was almost how it happened. When Gabriel's hand went down everyone stood up and took aim and fired, the scout dropped in his place dead before he hit the ground, most of the rest of the convoy dropped as well, all in fact except the snitch. The blood drained from his face in a second and he started sweating bullets before he took off running._

_Caleb swore and took off after the snitch as fast as his feet could carry him, the snitch had a good head start and managed to keep his distance for about thirty seconds but it was vain. Caleb jumped the final gap and brought his bayonet down on the snitch sending him into the dirt. _

_Caleb panting trying to catch his breath he yanked the blade out of the body and looked up trying to get his bearings, he looked up and saw a patrol of redcoats staring at him with their jaws slack. The ten armed men readied their weapons at Caleb and charged while Caleb with his unloaded musket wisely decided to sprint back to his squad to warn them. Of the incoming danger._

"_More redcoats are coming!" Caleb yelled as the remains of the convoy came within his sight. The men were busy inventorying the wagon and getting the bodies off the road. They made for their weapons when they saw the redcoats down the road had formed two lines of four, the first row kneeling reading themselves to send the first volley. Only two patriots managed to get their muskets in their hands before the first volley came crashing down. Five patriots fell, one of them being Gabriel._

_Caleb saw the redcoats charge, bayonets seeking their lifeblood. The four patriots plus Caleb knew this battle was lost and cut and ran away, the four decided to go down the road where running would be easier but Caleb instead choose to go into the thick and lush forest. After thirty seconds of free running Caleb glanced behind him to see if any person was still perusing him. The redcoat scout must have dropped his musket after the first volley because he had a tomahawk in hand._

_Caleb pushed his hand into his possibles bag and pulled out a paper cartage, with his teeth he ripped the one end off and let the power run down the barrel, the wadding kept the lead ball from sliding down the barrel, normally one would use the ramrod to push the lead ball into position but Caleb didn't have time for that. He discarded the patching and let the lead ball run down the barrel lose, he slammed the butt of the gun down onto the ground effectively seating the ball making the musket ready to fire._

_The scout talked him and Caleb went for his long knife the two wrestled in the ground trying to kill the other. Caleb managed to slash the knife across the fingers that held the tomahawk cutting them open. The redcoat howled and pain and Caleb using his leg pushed him off. He went for his musket but the redcoat charged again, Caleb surprised him not with his knife but the fact he had his musket in hand and thrusted it into his chest and pulled the trigger blowing up his right lung with the fifty caliber ball at point blank._

_The dead man fell form the blade and Caleb again tried to catch his breath. His fellow patriots were probably dead now, he thought about joining up with Washington but he knew he would just be again lumped into a bunch of green volunteers. Besides he saw the bodies that return to the fort, both dead and alive, legs and arms and even heads missing, the cries and sobbing he heard coming from the surgeons tent. War was a messy mass killing and he was sick of it, honestly it made more sense attacking and ambushing patrols then challenge the redcoats in open combat, if his contribution meant he had to be reduced to little more than a highwayman then so be it. He quickly reloaded his gun and set off for Pennsylvania, to home._

_Flashback ends_

So Caleb walked on, he had passed his home town about half an hour ago. The lush canopy over him blocked the sun from shining onto his head, he truly loved the country side, much better than the crowded streets of Philadelphia. As he continued on he thought he caught a whiff of wood smoke, a normal scent for the area but some sixth sense made him grip his musket tighter.


End file.
